


And then the walls came tumbling down

by CaraMia1887



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Best Friends, Emotional Hurt, Epiphanies, Falling In Love, Feelings, M/M, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:35:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraMia1887/pseuds/CaraMia1887
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mario and Marco are best friends from the moment they met. Until one day Mario discovers sth he never thought possible. Although if he were honest to himself, it was only a matter of time</p>
            </blockquote>





	And then the walls came tumbling down

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you.. my fellow Götzeus shippers.. I don't even know what this is and where it came from.. I just feel so bad for Mario right now, all this bashing and Pep ignoring him and how dare you treat him like that, he's only 22 and yeah, I feel horrible right now..   
> But instead of sth fluffy and consoling this came out. Please be honest with me and let me know what you think and if I better forget and delete it right now or if you're maybe interested in more of this? I already have some ideas to continue but will never do it without some voices that make me so.. go ahead.. :)

It would have been hard for Mario to tell the exact moment he fell in love with Marco.   
(Not that anyone asked, of course, but he wondered oftentimes if there ever was a certain point where he realised his true feelings. He never came up with an answer. It was always there, actually). He just hid it in his drawer deep inside his heart where all the real feelings where stored, safe and hidden from the rest of the world.

It might have been just when the former Gladbach player entered the locker room in tow with Kloppo, to be presented to the team as the season’s new entry, all shy somehow but yet smiling his specific crooked smile, looking at his new team members, making Mario direct his one hundred watt smile at him when they locked eyes for the first time. 

Or maybe it was when Marco screwed up his first FIFA performance so badly at Kevin’s season’s starter party where they used to get to know each other better (and get drunk like there’s no tomorrow, but that’s of course never the official program for this). Marco claimed he was “best at whatever with the controller” and they all had to laugh their heads off when he wasn’t even able to reach a draw against Schmelle, aka the world’s worst FIFA player (according to Neven). The striker nervously raked through his hair (that never was to be touched, by anyone, at least at this point) but was able to laugh about himself so heartily and open that Mario thought he couldn’t be any happier by just looking at his new partner in crime for the rest of his life. 

And partners in crime, they became mostly in an instant after they were teamed up for training. It was easy and light-headed and almost natural to be with each other. 

They instantly connected, being able to talk about almost everything and nothing at all (to remain silent together never felt better with Marco at his side).   
The two men shared mostly the same interests and were able to mock each other merciless about things where their opinion differed until one of them called it quits (most of the time it was Mario, good-natured and always looking for harmony, but not being able to give up without a little sulking). They had nicknames for each other and Mario never failed to feel warmed by the way Marco called him "Sunny". His "Woody" lost against this, but he gave up on finding a better one when Marco insisted on being called like this and nothing else.

Spending time together became quite natural. Their team members never seemed to mind that they were always clinging to each other, although it was a source of endless jokes on their behalf (Kevin was always eager to come up with new lines about the happy couple, and who was the woman in their relationship. Marco just snorted on these comments and shook his head while Mario was trying to come back at Kevin with sarcastic or witty remarks. And failed, evoking their team’s laughter circling in the locker rooms). 

Time well spent after training, with takeout meals and merely hanging around Marco’s flat became more than a habit, became so normal that days spent without each other was rather an exception. 

 

They never talked about women, not more than “oh look she’s got a fancy shirt, I wonder if I can get this for Yvonne for Christmas” though, and Mario never wondered about that. He knew Marco broke up with his former girlfriend but really didn’t seem to bother, so why should Mario. Afterwards, he would hit himself hard for not ever bringing this topic up, it might have made something so obvious clear so much earlier. 

 

He knew Marco was more into clubbing than he was, always taking endless hours thinking about what to wear on a certain night, always on fire with the latest charts breaker (not that he was a good singer, quite the opposite, but that never was a reason for Mario to tell him to stop. Who was he to ruin his best friend’s mood? And it was very amusing to listen to this crooked voice trying to reach certain heights it was truly never meant to do). 

He was always willing to accompany his friend, just to be with him (and not being called “grumpy old grandfather” when he opted for another evening on the couch, especially after a Saturday’s home match).  
“You’re not 85, so get your well-formed ass off that sofa and get dressed properly, Sunny”, Marco used to tease him and he succeeded with his attempts every single time.

 

They spent nights at Dortmund’s top level clubs, dancing and talking and drinking more than Kloppo would ever grant them, but they’d cover for each other at Sunday’s running exercises, when the night was too long and the sleep to short. 

Once in a while the other team members joined them, mostly after victories they get to celebrate together, but it was more often that it was only the two of them, happily spending their time together, not ever getting bored or annoyed by the other one. 

Later, Mario was sure that he had to feel the doom looming on the horizon, that it was too good to be true and he should have known it would never stay this way forever. He was always a bit superstitious, especially his own-well being. Some experiences in the past told him that no luck would last forever, that everything good has to come to an end rather sooner than later. Yet with Marco, it never felt this way. 

So it hurt Mario in the worst way possible. 

It was a Saturday night when they were partying with Mats (and his royal-blue shadow following him everywhere), Kevin, Schmelle and some younger players of their second team. They had won their match on Friday, beating the hell out of Werder Bremen. Kloppo had one of his generous moments, “see you all on Monday, boys, and make me proud by behaving yourself although you emptied the whole of Dortmund of its alcoholic stocks”, and they were eagerly following their coach’s request. The guys danced to all songs the DJ threw at them, giggling and celebrating their heads off in a very good way. Mario found himself smiling at Marco even more often than usual and felt light-headed and happy from head to toe. After some hours, he noticed Marco was missing and he asked Mats if he had seen him but all he got for an answer was a shake of a head and a slightly puzzled glance from Benedikt, tied to Mats’ hips the entire time. 

It was a warm, gentle night and the club was buzzing with life. Mario never felt so alive in days, like all the pressure from the weeks training had been lifted of his shoulders. He was even feeling brave enough to join Kevin in one of his stupid drinking games and he felt more than tipsy when he headed for the club’s back yard, desperately wanting to get some fresh air. He stopped in his tracks when he saw that he was not alone in this dark back yard surrounded by the building’s walls, and he smiled a little, really not planning on interrupting any action going on. His eyes were dizzy from the booze and he leaned against the door, trying to get as much air as possible without disturbing the couple in front of him.

He didn’t immediately recognize the person’s back he was staring at. Two people pressed together against a brick wall. It was hard to tell where one body began and the other one ended, all tangled legs and arms and hands, the only sounds were the music from the club, muffled by the walls and some moaning emerging from this body mess that he wasn’t imagining at all.

He stared at the peculiar sight in front of him for what felt like an eternity, unable to move, unable to form a proper thought about what he was actually looking at. One of the bodies, both men, obviously, got stiff and a head turned towards Mario, an unfamiliar voice telling him with an annoyed tone, “Hey asshole, can’t you see we’re busy here, get lost!”.

That’s the exact same moment when it hit Mario with the force of a baseball bat. He knew this shirt he was staring at, with the inscription on the back so familiar he wondered why it took him ages to recognize his best friend, entangled in another man’s arms. He had been there when Marco decided to buy this shirt, despite Mario’s attempts to talk him out of it, for its hideous colour and the strange lines on the arms. “I like what it says on the back” was all Marco said and that was it. 

“Belief makes things real”.

Just when the stranger yelled at him, Marco turned his face, laughing, with lips red and swollen from their making out session, to see who interrupted said session.

His face fell the instant he was aware of Mario standing in front of him and he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but not a single word left his mouth. They looked at each other in utter disbelief, completely oblivious to the other man standing next to Marco, who was quite pissed by the sudden interruption. 

The next moment, Mario felt the life return to his swampy legs, turned around and ran, ran faster than ever before.


End file.
